Hunters Never Cry
by Robin1231
Summary: Shawn just wants to stop being the screwup that he knows he is.  Rated T for some language, attempted suicide, and references to child abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Boy meets World or its characters. **

**Summary: Shawn just wants to stop being the screwup that he knows he is. Rated T for some language, attempted suicide, and references to child abuse.**

**Warning: AU. Shawn's dad died when Shawn was 17, before they left for college.**

**Chapter 1**

Shawn felt his heart hammer in his chest—faster faster faster. His fingers, loosely clasped around the green bottleneck, trembled violently. _He was an abusive drunk!_ Jack's words clamored inside his brain, adding to the howl that muffled all sound coming into his ears. Jack didn't know the half of it. Jack wasn't there. Jack was the lucky one. He was so, so lucky. Shawn felt the wind blow his already messy hair around around around. He felt the tears build behind his tired eyes. But they would not fall. Shawn Hunter never let the tears fall. The unopened bottle dropped from nerveless fingers with a dull thud as he walked toward the ledge of the rooftop. His breath grew ragged and raw. _You finally win Dad. You finally win._ Shawn climbed up onto the ledge and stood up tall. He looked to the East, into the rising sun. He closed his eyes and spread his arms wide. He breathed in deep and then looked down down down.

"What do you think you're doing Shawn?" A calm voice sounded from behind him. Cory's father stood at the doorway of the stairwell. His voice was soothing but Shawn saw the truth in his eyes. Utter disappointment. He was used to seeing it. He was such a screwup. Shawn once again bit back the tears. He opened his mouth and turned back to the city line.

"What I should have done years ago." He was ashamed of the weakness in his voice and he knew that his father would have been too and his mother and Jack and Cory and John and Angela and Topanga and Mrs. Matthews and—hell—everyone he ever knew. His father would have been so ashamed and Shawn knew what happened when his father was ashamed. He would receive his punishment with open arms this time. He deserved it.

"And what's that Shawn?" Shawn spun around so violently, Alan's heart jumped into his throat. He was going to fall…Frantic anger flashed in Shawn's eyes.

"What do you think?" His voice cracked dramatically and broke Alan's heart in two. "Why the hell do you think I'm standing on the edge of a frickin building? Is there any other explanation or do you just want me to say it? Huh? But this is expected of me Mr. Matthews! I'm the lost cause remember? Why else would I be jumping off a building?" It took all of Alan's strength to keep his voice calm.

"I don't know Shawn. Why are you jumping off a building?" He watched helplessly as the boy frantically grabbed the hair on the sides of his head and pulled as if trying to split his head in two. He vaguely noticed the lack of tears on Shawn's face.

"I—I don't have to explain this to you!" Shawn spluttered, face turning beet red.

"Yes you do. I'm the only one here."

"NO I DON'T! YOU DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT ME! NOBODY DOES! SO—so—so just leave me alone Mr. Matthews…leave me alone and go home." Shawn's voice trailed off and he lowered his head. He once again turned back to the empty chasm and then turned back, as if remembering something he had lost. "And—and tell Cory I'm sorry. He won't…he won't understand. And…I'm sorry for messing up your perfect child…He's—he's a good guy. Tell him he's the best friend that I ever had and I never meant to hurt him and—"

"Tell him yourself." Mr. Matthew's voice was harsh and made Shawn wince. "That boy cares more about you than he does anyone else in the world. Probably even more than Topanga. You're his brother Shawn. You're his other half. You're the one he goes to with everything. No one else. You're just being selfish Shawn Hunter. Selfish."

"SELFISH? HOW THE HELL AM I BEING SELFISH?"

"Cory loves you Shawn. And he needs you." The older man's voiced softened as he looked upon his third son. "You're his family. You can't leave him. You're right—he won't understand. He won't understand and he'll blame himself. You know he will." Shawn scoffed and ran a shaky hand through his hair in desperation. He knew Alan was right. "He loves you Shawn." And something broke within the boy. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, sinking to the ground.

"Nobody loves me." Then he put his head into his hands and began to cry. The immediate threat of danger gone, Alan sat down beside Shawn and put an arm across the trembling shoulders. The boy started violently and shot up, viciously wiping away the traitorous tears.

"It doesn't matter. Never mind."

"No. Shawn, wait—"

"No." Shawn interjected. "Thanks Mr. Matthews, but no thanks. I'm fine." And he set his jaw slightly forward in defiance. He didn't need pity. He needed to be alone. He needed to die. He needed…he needed…he needed…

"I want to help, Shawn." Mr. Matthews rose and put a hand on Shawn's shoulder. He quickly shrugged it off.

"Then don't tell Cory what happened tonight. That's how you can help." And he brushed past Mr. Matthews; his famous Hunter tough outer shell patched up and intact, and disappeared into the darkness once more.

**So…first fanfiction ever. What do you think? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Boy meets World or its characters. **

**Summary: Shawn just wants to stop being the screwup that he knows he is. Rated T for some language, attempted suicide, and references to child abuse.**

**Warning: AU. Shawn's dad died when Shawn was 17, before they left for college.**

**Chapter 2**

Shawn leaned against the brick wall surrounding the park, scuffing the toes of his worn boots against the loose gravel. He stared blankly forward and crossed his arms loosely across his chest. He felt—not quite content, but as close has he had in months as he let the sun beat down on his head and shoulders. It was all quiet. It was all calm. It was all alone. Shawn gazed over at the now-rusted jungle gym of melded pipes. He felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly as he remembered, long ago, playing on it with a curly haired boy. The smile dropped off his face as quickly as it had come. He pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the metal structure. Flashes of memories rushed past his eyes as he remembered when his life first began to dim. He was only eight years old.

_Shawn and Cory sat on the very top of the jungle gym, laughing at nothing—as they usually did. Cory's pre-misconceptions of Shawn had long since faded away. Now there was nothing between them but the best friendship life had to offer._

_ "Hey Shawn," Cory's high pitched voice sounded from his right. "You wanna come over for dinner tonight? Ma's making meatloaf. If I gotta eat it, someone else should too. I mean, I can't be punished alone!" Shawn giggled softly. _

_"Yeah, sure Cor."_

_ "You gotta ask your folks?"_

_"Nah. They're cool. I don't even think they noticed me leave." Shawn was, even at this young age, used to the complete inattention his parents paid him. Something about this bothered Cory, but he really was too young to truly understand._

_ "Uh—ok then! Race you!" The two jumped off the bars and raced down the street, Cory's dad close behind. They burst through the back gate of the house, startling Mr. Feeny, and tore off their muddy shoes. _

_ "Hey boys!" Amy's voice cheerfully greeted them as they raced into the house. "Ready for dinner? I made meatloaf!" The two boys looked at each other conspiratorially and burst out into hysterical laughter._

_ Hours later, Shawn unlatched the door to the family trailer and crept in, treading softly so not to wake his parents. He quietly took off his shoes and placed them on an old and yellowed piece of newspaper—the family doormat. He silently leaned his purple backpack against the wall and walked toward his bed. His toe ran into an empty bottle which rolled on the floor with a loud CLANG. Light flooded the house as Mr. Hunter, eyes bloodshot and narrowed, tugged sharply on the light switch. Shawn froze like a jackrabbit as his father advanced toward him._

_ "What did you do?" His father rumbled._

_ "I—I didn't do anything Dad," Shawn stammered fearfully. He had never seen his father like this._

_ "She didn't leave for no reason. It's YOUR FAULT! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Chet slurred loudly. Shawn flattened himself against the wall, eyes wild._

_ "What do you mean? Where's Mom?" Shawn squeaked._

_ "She left because of YOU!" Chet bellowed, roughly grabbing Shawn's arm and pulling him so close that Shawn could smell his alcohol laced breath. Shawn tried to pull his arm away in vain. "YOU EMBARRASSED HER! ALWAYS SNEAKING AROUND, LOOKING FOR HANDOUTS! YOU'RE PATHETIC! NO WONDER SHE DIDN'T WANT TO BE AROUND YOU!" His hand tightened and Shawn cried out._

_ "Dad, please stop! Daddy please! You're hurting me!" Chet threw Shawn violently into the cupboards. Old porcelain plates and worn plastic containers showered down on top of the boy as he cowered against the wood. Chet shook his head disgustedly; drunkenly._

_ "Pathetic. It's all your fault. You're a failure. Such a fucking screwup." Shawn started to cry. He didn't mean to, it just happened. But that only served to infuriate the older man more._

_ "DON'T CRY! HUNTERS NEVER CRY!" The last thing Shawn saw was his father's huge fist slamming into his eye before he lost consciousness for the first time—it wouldn't be the last. It would continue for 7 years. When he woke, Chet was at the table, absently nursing a cup of coffee. He cautiously slid into the chair across from his father, wincing slightly at the bruises the cupboard made on his back. Chet glanced up at his son's face, hovered at the black eye for a moment, and looked away. Shawn bit his lip._

_ "I love you Daddy," he voiced cautiously. Chet smiled bitterly into his coffee._

_ "Nobody loves us."_

_ "Yes Father."_

Shawn rubbed his eyes raw as he held back the tears just as he had on the rooftop just two nights before. His father's voice reverberated in his head, mixing with his own. _Nobody loves us. So Hunters never cry._

**Review?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Boy meets World or its characters. **

**Summary: Shawn just wants to stop being the screwup that he knows he is. Rated T for some language, attempted suicide, and references to child abuse.**

**Warning: AU. Shawn's dad died when Shawn was 17, before they left for college.**

**Chapter 3**

Cory gulped softly as he approached his best friend who was sitting, slouched on a park bench, head leaning back and eyes closed. He was never good at this kind of stuff. This was Topanga's thing. _Ah, Topanga_. The thought of her always made him smile. Topanga was the love of his life, but Shawn was the other half of his soul. Shawn was always there. _Always._ Even when he wasn't _there-_there, he was there. But now…nothing was the same. Deep down, Cory blamed himself for Shawn's unhappiness. _His_ life had been so damn _easy_, he though bitterly. No matter how quiet Shawn kept about his home life, Cory knew it…well, it sucked. And for a while, he felt like he was helping. But now he knew he really wasn't.

"Hey Shawn." Cory noticed bitterly how different his voice sounded—Shawn would find it patronizing; he knew. Shawn's head snapped up, lip curled in a slightly surprised and defiant smile, as if he couldn't believe what Cory was saying. Then he rolled his head forward and shook it side to side, chin rubbing his chest.

"He told you didn't he?" he muttered raspily. Cory winced inwardly.

"He did Shawn."

"Well," Shawn muttered, turning away from Cory. "Can't say I didn't see that coming." He took a deep breath and then turned back to Cory. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, go ahead with the lecture. Tell me that I was stupid. Tell me all that crap about how much I matter and how much I would hurt people and yadda yadda yadda, the end. You know Cor? I don't give a crap anymore. This is so stupid. I don't understand how people like YOU and YOUR FATHER can even THINK you have a right to judge people like me. You have no idea Cory."

"Then give me an idea." Cory sat beside Shawn and watched as his friend dropped his eyes, now softened. Shawn opened his mouth and then shut it before words could come out. He looked helplessly at Cory, as if begging his to speak for him or at least to understand. "Just tell me why you tried to kill yourself Shawnie." Cory's whisper was laced with desperation. He searched Shawn's eyes for an explanation. The helplessness only deepened.

Cory had never seen Shawn look so small. His leather jacket looked as if it was trying to swallow him whole. His hands lay limp in his lap, fingers lean and pale. Cory still sat, staring into Shawn's tumultuous eyes and an epiphany hit him.

"Why don't you cry Shawn?"

Shawn squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head into his hands. Without even thinking, Cory flung an arm across Shawn's shoulders. He started and tried to pull away. Why, Cory didn't know, but he refused to let go of his best friend. He held onto the struggling, flailing body until it came to a trembling stop, resting against his own side. Cory shifted, embracing Shawn with both arms, hugging him now and Shawn in turn latched onto his coat lapels, still shaking violently. The two sat like that until Shawn regained control. He sat up and looked at his friend.

"Because Hunters never cry."

"Why not Shawn? Who says?"

"My father." Shawn took a deep breath. "Cor, I don't expect you to understand. What my father and I had was terrible and destructive, but it was my life. He taught me how to me a man and men don't cry."

"How did he teach you Shawnie?"

"Like any other trailer trash father would," Shawn said bitterly, finally tired of hiding the past. "He beat it into me until I understood." He pretended not to notice Cory's body stiffening up at that revelation. "But I never understood good enough. I'm too weak Cor. I'm a screwup and a failure. He was right."

"No. NO HE WASN'T SHAWN." Cory grabbed Shawn by his shoulders and forced him to face him. Shawn's empty eyes gazed back. Cory shook him slightly as he intoned slowly, "YOU. ARE. MY. BEST. FRIEND. You're my brother Shawnie. You're no screwup. And I'm not gonna let him ruin your life from the grave. Too many people care about you Shawn, me included."

"Nobody's got the frickin' porch light on for me Cor," Shawn spat bitterly. "Nobody cares. Nobody loves me. Not even my own fucking family."

"I'M your family Shawn! I love you! You're my brother."

"Thanks Cory, but it's not the same. I need my dad." Shawn rose and walked away, leaving Cory on the park bench looking after him.

"He never was your dad Shawn!" Cory cried. "He didn't deserve you!" But Shawn didn't turn. He needed to be alone. He needed…did he need his father? He needed his dad. He needed his daddy.

"I love you Daddy," he whispered and only the wind answered back.

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Boy meets World or its characters**

**Summary: Shawn just wants to stop being the screwup that he knows he is. Rated T for some language, attempted suicide, and references to child abuse.**

**Warning: AU. Shawn's dad died when Shawn was 17, before they left for college.**

**Chapter 4**

Jon Turner padded across the wretched apartment-grade carpet onto the slippery, cracked linoleum of his kitchen—if you could call it that. Still holding the sorriest excuse for an essay he'd ever seen (the second sorriest, but he'd sworn to forget him) Jon reached into the slightly yellowing refrigerator and pulled out another bottle of cheap beer—the best he could get on his measly teacher's salary. Glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose; Mr. Turner drew out the dreaded red pen again and attacked the atrocious grammar with renewed vigor. He was nearing the end of the paper when a sudden flash of white-hot pain sliced through his right shoulder—a remnant of the night he'd lost everything. John staggered off of the kitchen stool and, clutching his shoulder, dragged himself into the bedroom where he collapsed onto shrieking springs and cozy quilts. He waited patiently—as he always did—for the pain to subside. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to remember.

_Jon could hear the boy's frantic prayer to God, begging for his life. "I'm ok Shawn!" He wanted to scream. "I'm ok and I still love you!" But his mouth, for the first time, wouldn't work. He felt Hunter's slim fingers tremble violently underneath his own massive bandages. God, the kid was so small. Underneath the leather jackets and flannel layers, Shawn was tiny. Jon wanted to wrap him up in his own coat, pull him into a hug, and never let him go. But Shawn didn't want him. He wanted Chet and Virna. And that thought made Jon's heart sink deep into his shoes. But then again, where were his shoes?_

_ Shawn was still praying and shaking and praying and shaking and Jon had to do something. He summoned every ounce of strength he possibly could and squeezed the frail hand, careful not to crush the bones beneath translucent skin. With a startled gasp from the kid, Jon felt Shawn desperately latch onto his hand._

_ "Jon I know you can hear me—now I just know it. I'm so sorry Jon. Please don't leave me alone. I'm sorry. I'll change. I'll do better. I—I'll do anything Jon. I'll lose the attitude, hell; I'll lose the hair if it bothers you so much. I'll stop being such a screwup. I'll stop barging in on your dates, I'll move out of the apartment, I'll get a job, I'll go to college, I'll do anything. Just please…Dad…Don't leave me…" Shawn dropped his head onto Turner's hand and shoved back the tears. Jon so desperately wanted to turn to the boy. Promise him that everything would be ok and tell him that he was most certainly not a screwup and that yes, he was his son. Shawn was his boy and he loved him. And then Shawn left. He left to go home with the Matthews and thank god not Mr. Mac. But when he returned something wasn't the same._

_ His voice was hollow as he told Jon he couldn't see him anymore. That he had just been scared when he made all his promises and called him "Dad". And he left again and never came back. Although John had every intention of moving out of the apartment that he and the boy had shared for such a long time, he just couldn't do it. It was amazing how long it had taken Jon to build so many defenses around his heart and how short a time it had taken Shawn to destroy them. Now that Shawn was gone, the wall would have to be rebuilt and that's what Turner had done._

The pain in his shoulder had, by then, diminished into a dull roar (the pain in his heart would remain forever). Jon Turner wiped the prickling tears from the corners of his eyes with his calloused thumbs and pushed himself up and walked past his essays and straight to his beer. He slumped onto the countertop and put his head in his hands.

"You still leave the key beneath the loose floorboard Mr. Turner. Not a very good hiding spot if _I_ can find it." A tired voice sounded from behind him. Jon spun around desperately, hoping this apparition wouldn't disappear like all the others had. Shawn sat slumped on the corner of his couch, clutching a bowl of cold mashed potatoes from Jon's dinner, exactly like so many years ago. Jon stood frozen in place, mouth agape. He felt like he was back in the hospital bed—he couldn't speak. Shawn rose, replaced the potato bowl on the couch and stuck his hands in his pockets in the same defiant manner he had just two years ago when he was 15. He looked like utter crap.

As Turner's silence grew, the tiny spark of hope in Shawn's eyes faded. He lowered his head and scuffed the floor with the toe of his worn-down boot. "This was a bad idea," he muttered and turned towards the door.

"No. Shawn—wait." Turner gasped out. Shawn turned with a betrayed look on his face, tears welling in his eyes.

"What?" He demanded brokenheartedly. Jon crossed the distance between them in two strides and roughly pulled the boy into his arms. Shawn stood stock-still for a moment and then felt the older man shaking with sobs. Suddenly, it was ok to cry, so he did. He clutched Jon's worn cotton shirt and pressed his face into the man's chest and felt Jon stroking his hair. Jon pulled apart and held Shawn at arm's length and looked frantically into his face, searching.

"Don't you ever do that to me again Shawn Hunter," he choked through the tears. "Don't you ever leave me again. I love you. I love you Shawn. You're my son. You're MY son." Shawn nodded violently, tears still running down his face. They embraced again; John shushing the boy's muffled apologies.

Face still buried in Jon's shirt, Shawn muttered, "Do you really love me?"

"Of course I do Shawn," Jon said fiercely. "I always have."

**Yeah, complete sap and whatnot. Review, yes? YES?**


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